A/N: I do not own Twilight.
This fic is pre-written and complete. I'm uploading all chapters at once. Not Beta'd (if there are mistakes, point them out and I'll fix them).
Bella wasn't quite sure how everything in the past hour had happened. And by everything in the past hour, she meant her boyfriend telling her that he was leaving her for another city and another woman.
The former wasn't the part she couldn't understand however; it was the latter.
Because the other woman was her friend, had been their friend. She and Emmett had been great friends with Rosalie and Edward, best friends with them in fact. They'd all become friends in their senior year of college (with Edward and Emmett being cousins) shortly after Bella and Emmett had started dating and they'd continued seeing one another a few times a month in all the time since.
"Where are you going to go?" Bella had asked half an hour before, when she'd been standing by the bed, watching him pack, feeling numb. She didn't try to change his mind, she knew that when he'd already decided something, there was no changing it.
"I got a call from an agent in New York, he wants me to try out for a minor-league team, told me it would be three months of that and they'd put me in the majors," he explained, excited. Bella tried not to wince. She'd known he'd been upset not to have received an offer for a team after his injury in their final year of college but while he'd been college good, he was nowhere near being major good.
Her stepfather had informed her of that fact after the first time he'd seen Emmett play. She'd been relieved when he'd seemed to give up the dream in the five years since he'd left college, settling into his job at his father's construction company with no complaint. But apparently, he'd never given the dream up.
"And when did it start? Your thing with Rose?" she had asked, unable to help herself. He'd given no indication that he'd been unhappy in their relationship, the opposite in fact, because she knew that only three months ago he'd asked her father's permission to propose to her. Charlie had told Bella the day after, knowing how weary she'd seemed when her boyfriend had joked about it months before.
Emmett stopped packing then, finally turning to look at her. She was still dressed from work, in a beige pencil skirt and a lavender blouse with wispy frills for sleeves. She was pretty, she knew, more so than when they'd started dating but she still wasn't Rosalie.
"It started last month, you were sick and Edward was on a job in Chicago but we met for dinner anyway…" he trailed off, looking at her with guilt but he didn't apologise, simply going back to packing.
"Edward is your cousin, Emmett," she stated, irritation leaking into her voice for the first time since he'd walked in the door. She was angrier for that, that he'd do this to Edward, who for all intents and purposes, was his brother.
He flinched and paused before continuing to shove clothes into the almost-full suitcase. "He'll get over it," Emmett muttered, but she could tell he wasn't as sure of himself as he had been.
She'd left the room then, had walked into the kitchen for the beer she knew she'd need to get through the rest of her evening. She finished it and two more before he finally emerged from the bedroom they'd shared, bags stuffed to breaking point with his things.
"I transferred enough money into your account to cover the rent until the lease runs out. You can keep the furniture and stuff, don't worry about paying me back for it," he told her, his voice soft and almost regretful, not the booming joy it usually was.
She said nothing in response.
And then he left. Closing the door on their six-year relationship.
She hadn't really moved since he'd left, other than to grab three beers that she'd finished, enjoying the buzz she'd accumulated. She looked around their apartment then, at all the leftover baseball memorabilia that decorated the walls (the most expensive pieces he'd taken with him) and the very few pictures and figurines that belonged to her. While he'd always said that it was cute that she was a huge fan of Harry Potter, Star Trek and Star Wars, he had insisted on most of her own collectables being displayed in their spare room instead of out in the open.
She sat down then, on the floor in front of the refrigerator and buried her head in her hands, tears finally escaping. She cried for herself, for Edward, who she imagined was just as angry and confused as she was and she cried because she didn't care more that the man she might have married had left her.
When she stopped crying twenty minutes later, she pushed herself to her feet and moved into the lounge room, determined to see all his things boxed up before she went to bed that night.
She finally fell asleep in the very early morning with tear tracks on her face, but somewhere in her heart whispered that she would be alright.